


Mate

by lipah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Forgiveness, I'm not really sure what's going on, M/M, Mute Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Temporary Mute Character, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have sex, Derek wants to save Stiles from a life altering injury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT:   
> So, I ended up rereading this pretty quickly after posting it, because I got another idea with it. So I have fixed some of the mistakes, and added little things to the first part here. Now I'm going to write more for it hopefully. =)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Part of a fanfic I will never write more of, I do this a lot with Teen Wolf. You don't need the rest of the story, so it's not a big deal. I have literally never reread this, I just decided to post something.~~

Stiles was spread out on his bed when Derek got home, his mouth open and his legs set wide. His fingers were buried deep inside his body, his head was thrown back, and his mouth open. It only took Derek a moment to launch himself up the stairs, pulling his clothing off as he went. Stiles bit his bottom lip and smiled at him, wordlessly begging the Alpha closer. Derek crawled across the bed and pulled Stiles up on top of him. It had been only been a week since Stiles' voice had been stolen, his throat was still healing, and if it hadn't been Stiles birthday Derek might have argued with him about this. Instead, he let Stiles run his hands over him, leaving trails of lube still left on Stiles' fingers.

Stiles' hands were warm and calming regardless, and Derek didn't think he could ever get sick of them on his body. Stiles smiled down at him before he cupped Derek's face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. They did this so infrequently that Derek sometimes thought it was a dream when it happened. It was so rarely calm in Beacon Hills, and they were so rarely alone. Derek didn't question how Stiles convinced the pack to stay away tonight, didn't ask what he had told them to prevent the party that Lydia had been planning. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles body, splayed his own hands over Stiles back, and tried to pull Stiles so close that they became one person.

Derek managed to get his pants off while Stiles was still in his lap, and a second later he flipped them around. He pressed Stiles against the mattress and licked slowly up the side of Stiles perfect neck, careful to keep away from the injury. He sucked a mark onto his skin, adjusted their bodies, and then buried his cock inside Stiles. The younger man threw his head back like it had been when Derek got home. He threw his head back like that one thrust was the most pleasurable thing he had ever felt. His blunt nails dug into Derek's shoulders as he tried to groan.

Derek would be lying if he said that he didn't miss the way Stiles babbled through sex. The way his words tumbled out like nonsense, as he praised Derek constantly. But, now Stiles say any of those things, instead, he dug his fingers in deeper, wrapped his legs around Derek's waist tighter, opened his mouth more. Derek moved slowly at first, carefully thrusting in and out of Stiles. He wanted to make Stiles cry when he came tonight because after tonight he knew Stiles would never talk to him again. So he flipped them over again and lifted Stiles up onto his lap. Stiles might as well have been weightless in his arms, and then he thrust back inside him. “I love you,” Derek said against the side of his head, “I love you so fucking much.”

Stiles pressed a kiss to the side of Derek's head, his way of saying I love you too, and Derek wished he could hear him say it. He wished so fucking badly that Stiles could tell him one last time. He fucked Stiles harder at the thought, letting his claws out, and his teeth sharpen. There was so much Derek wanted to say still, he hadn't told Stiles that he smelt like home yet. He hadn't told him that he wanted to spend every last minute of his life with him. He hadn't told him that he was his mate, his second in command, his everything because it didn't matter now. So he fucked hard, pressed open-mouthed kisses to Stiles skin, wherever he could reach.

Stiles hand slipped between them and wrapped around his own cock, and started to stroke it quickly. He was breathing heavily against the side of Derek's head, one hand around his cock, the other trying to break the skin on Derek's shoulder. He came suddenly, his toes curled and he threw his head back again. Derek's eyes flashed as he groaned, he thrust a few more times, and just before he came he bit down on Stiles' shoulder. His eyes gone red, as he forced Stiles to take the bite.

Stiles managed to make a noise then, a strange pained noise, and then he hit Derek. He pulled away from him, scrambled backwards and stared wide-eyed in disbelief. He clapped his hand over the bite mark, and then he managed to get off the bed. He gathered his clothing, got dressed and ran from the loft. Derek collapsed on the bed, cock still hard, eyes still red, Stiles blood still on his mouth. He could hear Stiles footsteps as he ran, thundering down the stairs, through the front lobby, and out the front doors.

The only thing to do now was to wait, and hope that the bite took. And, when it did take—because Derek knew it would, Stiles was too strong to die from it—he hoped that it healed Stiles. He hoped that it re-lit his spark, and let him babble out spells and curses faster than anyone could follow. Derek rolled onto his side then, curled against himself, and cried.


	2. Mated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently three comments asking for more and three days of no sleep is enough to inspire me. Not beta'd sorry.

Stiles had never been able to keep pace with the wolves when they ran through the forest during the full moon. He always waited at the house, rebuilt as a place for the pack a year earlier, a second home for everyone. Sometimes he was alone on the porch, or sometimes Allison and Lydia would sit with him. Sometimes still, Allison and Lydia would run with the wolves, not as fast or as far but Allison tracked them and Lydia followed behind her. They laughed breathlessly as they went, holding hands as the plunged through the thick trees. Lydia's hair flying behind her full of leaves, twigs, and other things from the trees. Stiles envied them as he watched them run. He had tried it once, but the girls were too fast, too graceful for him. So, one the full moon nights that Lydia arrived in running shoes and a workout outfit, Stiles would smile and pulled out his phone.

 

It had been two days since Derek bit him, and now his blood burned for it. Burned to run through the trees, faster than he ever had before. Taking in more air then he had ever been able to hold, he scrambled out his bedroom window. He threw himself to the ground and landed strongly on his feet. He leaps over the back fence, he felt his body shifting, changing as he let his wolf take over him. He felt his feet pelting the ground, in a steady thrum of footfalls. He felt himself smile widely as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, as he was able to turn at a seconds notice, as he was able to fly along the ground.

 

There was so much around him now, so many sounds, and smells that he wanted to chase down. His body vibrated with excitement that he didn't realise he would feel. It hadn't been like this with Scott, Stiles realised, Scott has struggled with the wolf. Scott hadn't wanted the wolf, and when he had gotten it he had been upset. Stiles skidded to a stop, his heart pounding in his ears, and he realised he wasn't upset. He was mad, of course, every part of him was mad at Derek. But, he wasn't upset. Instead, he was thrilled, he felt more alive than he ever had in his own body; like this was what he was meant to be.

 

He turned, looked toward the Hale house, and listened. He could hear the others there, they were talking about the party they would have for him soon. Lydia was tutting at someone else, upset that Stiles _needed_ to be alone with Derek for a few days. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to run to them, and show them how he looked, but they would be mad. He couldn't hear Derek there, he listened for his voice, because he didn't know which heartbeat belonged to who yet. When he didn't hear him, didn't hear Lydia or Erica angry that Derek was home but Stiles wasn't. He turned on his heels and he ran toward town.

 

Stiles didn't know why, but the first person he went to see was Deaton. He banged on the vet's office door, and a moment later the door was opened for him. Stiles stumbled through, eyes still burning yellow, teeth and claws long and sharp. Deaton nodded his head and opened the mountain ash door to let Stiles through to the backroom. “Sit,” Deaton said and pointed at the table. “I'll check your throat,” he added, because Stiles hadn't spoken yet. He clambered onto the table, and after only a minute he relaxed at willed his shift away.

 

Deaton pulled the bandages carefully from Stiles' throat, he ran his hand along the healed flesh and waved a hand for Stiles to open his mouth. He checked down Stiles throat, looking for any kind of damage. Then took him into another room, where he was able to x-ray his throat. Stiles waited as Deaton did whatever it was that needed to be done, he fidgeted on the table, fingers drumming out a tune. 20 minutes later the druid was back in the room, with a soft smile on his lips. “The damage is gone,” he said softly. “You should be able to speak without any problems.” He raised an eyebrow at Stiles like he expected the boy to speak now, but Stiles didn't. He couldn't bring himself to just yet.

 

Instead, he shook his head and climbed off the table. He grabbed a pad of paper off the counter and scribbled across it. _'What about my spark?_ _'_ it read, in tiled messy writing. Deaton seemed to think for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. “I can already see that it's returning, apparently linked to your voice. Maybe it has to do with your ability to convince others of things. Of course, I've never met a spark who became a wolf,” he answered honestly. “But, I've never met a spark as strong as you,” he said. Stiles nodded his head, slowly and carefully before he tilted his head to the door. “I'll see you later,” he said and walked Stiles out.

 

The second Stiles feet hit the side walk he was running away. He pushed himself to go faster, shifting and sprinting. Dropping down so he ran in a frenzy on all fours, until he could see the loft. He rocketed up the stairs and pulled the door open so fast he thought it might smash through the wall. Derek was there in the middle of the room, unshaven, hair a mess. He looked like he had pulled on a pair of sweat pants, and done nothing since Stiles had left. He slammed the door shut behind him, and stumbled toward Derek. There he collapsed onto his knees in front of him, and stared up at him, with wide-eyes.

 

“Stiles,” Derek managed, and his voice was rough like he hadn't spoken in days. Stiles was sure that was true, just like the Derek to not take care of himself. Stiles pulled Derek down to his knees, made him kneel in front of him before he kissed him. He kissed him with the lung capacity of a werewolf, and he kissed him breathless. Stiles pulled away from Derek, lips swollen and bruised so quickly. He took in a gulp of air and found his voice lost in his head.

 

“I love you so fucking much,” Stiles said, and even though it had barely been a week since Derek had heard Stiles voice, he felt like it was the first time ever. He tumbled forward against Stiles and stared to cry. He sobbed apologies into Stiles skin and dug his fingers into his sides. Stiles wrapped his arms around him, buried his nose against Derek's neck and breathed in his scent. He could smell it when they were pressed close together, but now it was better. It was deeper and richer and filled his lungs until he thought he was going to explode. Stiles pushed Derek back once the man had stopped crying when his fingers loosened and exhaustion hit him.

 

Stiles helped him to his feet, took them both to the shower, and turned on the warm water. He let it spray over them, as he washed the two days of mess from Derek's body. He pushed Derek back against one of the cold tiled walls and pressed himself in close against him. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles then and breathed in his scent slowly. It was different now that he was a wolf, but no less pleasant, only more right to Derek. He could smell the current of electricity that hummed below Stiles skin and wondered if it would spark between them again now.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Derek said, as he breathed out. Stiles tiled his head to look up at him, blinked his eyes a few times before he nodded his head.

 

“I am mad,” he mumbled and then sighed contently. “But, you have a long time to make it up to me.” Derek swallowed around the lump in his throat and wondered if Stiles would stay with him, or if this would fester until Stiles couldn't stand the sight of Derek anymore. He wondered if Stiles would break away from him later, find a new pack, _make_ a new pack. It wasn't until Stiles reached up and cupped his face that he stopped worrying.

 

“Mark me,” he said softly.

 

“Mark you,” Derek repeated like he didn't understand.

 

“Mark me as your mate, Derek,” he said, and he grinned. Something inside of Derek twisted, but not unpleasantly, because of course Stiles already knew. Of course, Stiles could tell they were mates, they fit together too well to be anything else. So Derek nodded dumbly, as Stiles turned off the shower and they walked through the loft. Back upstairs to the bed that Derek had barely left since Stiles had run. Stiles crinkled his nose, turned to look at Derek before he huffed out a laugh. They stripped the bed of dirty sheets, and changed them before the crawled under the covers together. Derek climbed on top of Stiles, his hands on either side of his head.

 

“Are you sure you want this?” Derek asked, titling his head to the side.

 

“I've wanted it for months, Derek,” he said and reached his hands up to place on Derek's shoulders. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck to Derek again. His wolf whined as he did, begging for Derek's wolf to accept him. It wasn't hard at all, Derek found, to lean forward and clamp his mouth shut over the same bite mark on Stiles' shoulder. The difference was that this one was permanent. When they joined the pack for Stiles party the next day, he burst into the house shouting “happy birthday to me!” and he flashed his eyes at everyone, sending Scott into a panicked frenzy.

 

“I thought you were joking when you said you were going to ask for the bite!” Scott snapped, and Stiles just smiled back at his friend. Derek was still close by, and he raised an eyebrow at Stiles. He laughed at them both and dropped down onto the couch.

 

“I think part of me was joking,” Stiles mumbled, resting his head in his hand. “But, I feel right like this.” Lydia made a soft noise and rolled her eyes at him before she turned off to see if Boyd had finished icing the cake. Isaac inched closer to them and sniffed carefully at Stiles' neck.

 

“You smell different,” he said and sniffed a second time.

 

“Oh, yeah, well Derek and I got werewolf married on the weekend,” he answered. John choked on his drink and turned faster then Stiles had seen in years to look at Derek.

 

“You did what?” he snapped. Derek's eyes snapped open very wide, and he turned to look at Stiles begging for some kind of help.

 

“A long time to make it up to me,” Stiles said softly, and the fear on Derek's face faded away. He nodded his head at him and then turned back to look at his angry and confused _father-in-law._


End file.
